


Unanswered Calls

by AutumnJolene



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hope, Hurt, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 02:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnJolene/pseuds/AutumnJolene
Summary: His friend won't pick up. No matter how much he calls or how hard he tries, he can't seem to find them. Not for months. No word on them for almost an entire year. Then... no, there might be more, but none of its happy.





	Unanswered Calls

**Author's Note:**

> Just some curse words are all there is to warn about.
> 
> There might be some errors.

“Hey, finished that project I had been telling you about. Give me a call back so we can talk.” He sounded cheerful, like he usually did when he had something exciting to tell me. Something he knew I’d want to hear.

“Um… it’s been a couple of days. Haven't seen you at school. Hope you're alright. Call me.” This one had taken place on a Friday. Most likely just got out of school, had ridden his bike home from the sound of his uneven breathing.

“What's going on?” Finally, panic. He couldn’t shake it from his tone, no matter how much he tried. “You're not at home, not at school, and not at work. If you're in trouble… just call me. Text even. Please.” His voice nearly cracked, but he stopped himself short, regaining his composure before he continued.

“Come on, give me a call or something. It's been weeks. This is driving me crazy. Where are you?” This time, no panic laced his tone. He kept his emotions in check as he spoke. I could barely detect there was any worry.

“Hey, uh… we met once or twice before.” Yes, we had. He was nice, bought us both ice cream and listened with the utmost patience of an older brother as we explained in detail the project we had started. “Look he’s going crazy over here trying to find you. If you're hearing this, call one of us. If you're in trouble, all you have to do is give us a sign, a call or text, something. We can help you.” I’m sure you would like to try...

“Give me a clue. Come on. Just a little something. Let me know you're alive. P… Please. Please…” The hesitation in his tone clenched my heart. These had all been months ago. What point would there be in calling? I had no idea where I was, what even day it was. He would have - should have - given up by now.

“I uh… I don't know why I'm calling. You won't pick up. I can't find you. Anywhere I look… I just, I just can- Conner is uh… he’s calling me-” He sounded tired, like he hadn’t slept in weeks, probably months. It did make me feel better Conner was there, helping him I hope. Being his support.

“We've never met before, but this is driving him mad. He's not sleeping, barely eating even when Alfred insists… Give him a call dammit.” I hadn’t met him before, though I think I recall his voice over the phone once.

“…” He said nothing. Only heavy breathing followed by a few loud and disgusting snuffles. He had been crying. Recently. Then, he hung up.

“Me again. Older worried brother.” That made me smile. “I'm not in Gotham a lot, I, uh, actually work in Blüdhaven…” I knew that. His rambling made me smile wider. “He doesn't think you're dead or anything and I believe him. I believe you're alive and maybe you're getting these messages. If you are, if you need help, we’re all here.”

“Hello. I don't believe we’ve ever met, but…” So… _formal_. Most of his brothers had been loud and friendly to the say the least. Perhaps a friend. “I don't always like him but I don't want to see him like this.” Oh, it was this brother.” So… unhealthy.” Unhealthy? Oh god... “He doesn't even try to argue with me. This is your fault. You're _making_ him this way. And… you need to fix this. You _have_ to.” I fell silent. I couldn’t feel much, but I could feel the tears well in my eyes. Their coolness slid down my cheeks and once they started, they didn’t stop.

“I… fuck, why am I even calling? I don't even know you. You're probably dead… Granted, he had been right about Bruce… he's usually right…” His message abruptly ended, confusing me all the more. I had no idea what he was talking about, but his voice sounded restrained. Restrained anger. How long did they keep trying to reach me?

“This where I call you and tell you how I've given up. That I'm sorry I can't find you. And… well, yeah, I _am_ sorry I can't find you. It's just anytime I try to let go, I find myself wide awake when I should be deep in REM. I open up that file and I start from the beginning and the cycle goes on and on. I don't _want_ to give up because I know you are out there and I don't _want to stop_ until I find you. Because that's what friends are for. I remember when you wouldn't stop calling and texting, asking people all over the city until you cornered Alfred at the grocery store. He brought you back to the manor and you chided me like a mother, slapping me upside the head for having work laid out in front of me instead of resting. I think Alfred loved you for that… Yeah, I'm _not_ giving up until I bring you home.” I couldn’t help but smile at that. It was sweet.

The light dimmed, battery dying. I doubted I had any signal to call, so I let it go to stand by as I gazed up into the darkness.

A light lit up the small space, hurting my eyes. The phone’s vibrations tickled the ear it sat beside.

I didn’t recognize the number… No, I had seen this number somewhere but I couldn’t recall it. No contact name or photo popped up with it, but I swear I had seen it somewhere before.

It went to voicemail by the time I could reach up to answer it.

“He’s a smart boy. Far more intelligent than I am, but he's dug himself into a deep hole trying to find you.” Where had I heard this man before? “It's got him distracted. He doesn't know which way to turn. Not being able to solve this… it equates to being able to help you, to save you. Failing isn't an option for him…” A sob escaped my lips at last. All this time, I had been tearing him apart. What kind of friend does that? Before I could dwell any more on it, his message continued, “but, _I_ know where you are now. I know you're listening to these messages. I don't know if you can't respond or if you're too scared to, but it matters little now. Sit tight. I'm on my way.”

He’s on his way… Someone’s on their way?!

Impossible. My phone had only been on for thirty minutes, max. I don’t recall telling anyone where I was going let alone recall how I got to where I am. How would he find me?


End file.
